Homes--

Homes--

Winter is a terrible time at our house.  We are forced to be inside.  Being inside means we see all the things about our house that need to be fixed or repaired.  When there is nothing to look at but the walls, the door facings, the floors, the ceilings, the paint chipping, it is easy to become discouraged.  Our house is an older house so naturally things go wrong--almost on a daily basis.

Recently we visited with friends who had purchased a big, new home.  The rooms were large.  The paint was perfect.  The kitchen was beautiful. The master bedroom was huge, and the master bath was enormous.  It was amazing.  They are loving all the space and the new.  I am happy for them.  But a little sad for me.  Yes, I was on the brink of a very large pity party.

Now, isn't that sad?  A pity party?  Winter had gotten to me, that's for sure.  All I could think about was the differences in our homes.  One big-one small.  One new-one old.  This list could continue, but at some point I began to see the silly in me.  Here is what I decided.

A home is a refuge.  It does not matter the size of the rooms or the age of the house.  What matters is the feeling one gets from being inside those walls.  Chipped door facings give character to the home.  Scratches on wood floors mean pets have run and jumped.  Some dings are memory makers.  All of the imperfections are a result of daily living.  Memories flood the rooms.  They float through the air.  They settle on our souls.  We feel at peace within the walls of this beloved home.  We talk about the four colors of paint on the wall above the mantle.  We laugh about all the times the furniture has been moved.  We remember the too tall Christmas trees.  And as we remember, we see our home with different eyes.

I love new homes.  They smell good.  They smell clean.  I love the modern touches designers select for new homes.  I also enjoy visiting open houses.  Yet, there is something comforting about returning to the cozy of my home.  It feels right.  It welcomes me.  It asks me to get comfortable.  To enjoy my stay.

Our home has a mixture of old and newer furnishings.  One piece of furniture that has special meaning is the table that sets in front of our family room sofa.  Years ago we were on a mission to find a coffee table.  We searched in many furniture stores but found nothing we liked.  One day we decided to visit a second hand store.  And there it was.  A wooden table with a drawer.  It was painted a lovely blue color.  With a little work that table would be perfect.  So, we bought it for $20 and took it home.  We removed all that lovely blue paint.  Then he sawed off the legs to just the right height.  I would guess that was fifteen or so years ago.

The grandchildren have eaten on it, colored on it, painted on it, played games on it.  Toys have been piled on it.  Puzzles have been put together on it.  The drawer is full of art supplies.

Eventually, we purchased new furniture.  When the grandchildren heard we were changing the room, they informed us that we could not get rid of the table.  To this day they insist that we keep that table.  You see, it represents memories.  It represents all the times they have visited with us and used that table.  They cannot imagine our room without it.  A $20 table with sawed off legs.

Yes, there are times when I would love a new home.  There are times when I would love to put a "For Sale" sign in my yard.  But the truth is I love this place with all its limitations.  Each room represents part of our family.  However, the real reason I probably won't put that sign out is--I am too lazy to keep it clean for all those open houses!  Plus, I would have to clean the basement and throw away all that stuff that has accumulated over the years.  It is simply too much work to move.  Even to a new shiny house.

So, I suppose we will repair a few dings, touch up some chipping paint, remove some scratches before winter finally comes to an end.  When spring arrives, we will take our creative selves outside into the yard and garden.  The inside of the house will be old news--until the next winter rolls around.  And the cycle will begin again.

I celebrate the new house with my friends.  I celebrate the old house that cares for us.

Be well.